The Broad Highway

"Peter?" said he at last, speaking hardly above a whisper; "but

you 'm dead, Peter, dead--I killed--'ee."

"No," I answered, "you didn't kill me, George indeed, I wish you

had--you came pretty near it, but you didn't quite manage it.

And, George--I'm very desolate--won't you shake hands with a very

desolate man?--if you can, believing that I have always been your

friend, and a true and loyal one, then, give me your hand; if

not--if you think me still the despicable traitor you once did,

then, let us go into the field yonder, and if you can manage to

knock me on the head for good and all this time--why, so much the

better. Come, what do you say?"

Without a word Black George turned and led the way to a narrow

lane a little distance beyond "The Bull," and from the lane into

a meadow. Being come thither, I took off my coat and neckerchief,

but this time I cast no look upon the world about me, though indeed

it was fair enough. But Black George stood half turned from me,

with his fists clenched and his broad shoulders heaving oddly.

"Peter," said he, in his slow, heavy way, "never clench ye fists

to me--don't--I can't abide it. But oh, man, Peter! 'ow may I

clasp 'ands wi' a chap as I've tried to kill--I can't do it,

Peter--but don't--don't clench ye fists again me no more. I

were jealous of 'ee from the first--ye see, you beat me at th'

'ammer-throwin'--an' she took your part again me; an' then, you

be so takin' in your ways, an' I be so big an' clumsy--so very

slow an' 'eavy. Theer bean't no choice betwixt us for a maid

like Prue she allus was different from the likes o' me, an' any

lass wi' half an eye could see as you be a gentleman, ah! an'

a good un. An' so Peter, an' so--I be goin' away--a sojer--

p'r'aps I shan't love the dear lass quite so much arter a bit

--p'r'aps it won't be quite so sharp-like, arter a bit, but

what's to be--is to be. I've larned wisdom, an' you an' she

was made for each other an' meant for each other from the

first; so--don't go to clench ye fists again me no more, Peter."

"Never again, George!" said I.

"Unless," he continued, as though struck by a bright idea,

"unless you 'm minded to 'ave a whack at me; if so be--why, tak'

it, Peter, an' welcome. Ye see, I tried so 'ard to kill 'ee--so

cruel 'ard, Peter, an' I thought I 'ad. I thought 'twere for

that as they took me, an' so I broke my way out o' the lock-up,

to come an' say 'good-by' to Prue's winder, an' then I were

goin' back to give myself up an' let 'em hang me if they wanted

to."